


A Lesson in Bad Decisions

by AkuChibi



Series: Bad Luck and Trouble [3]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: M/M, Reyes might have to kill someone, Ryder gets hurt, an aggressive softie but he cares, it's not super graphic but it's there, let Reyes be happy, nah but Reyes is a softie really, scratch that he's definitely going to kill someone, some torture, someone went and broke the rules, time for payback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-12 03:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkuChibi/pseuds/AkuChibi
Summary: Someone went and broke the first rule of Kadara: don't fuck with the human Pathfinder.The Charlatan has some lessons to teach and examples to give.





	1. Rules are Made to be Broken, Right?

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read alone, of course, but you should really at least read part 1 of this series, KISS, KISS, before you read this one to get some context on their relationship and whatnot. This series follows the troubled romance of Atty Ryder and Reyes Vidal, told in one-shots or short stories. Some will be angsty, some will be fluff, etc. So while you can read this as stand-alone, I do really recommend reading KISS, KISS first to slot things into perspective.

The cold touch of panic threatens to overpower the raw heat of anger, but in the end the combination leaves him a quivering mess. He’s actually shaking when he walks onto the _Tempest_ , walking past members of the Pathfinder’s crew on his single-minded walk toward the Pathfinder’s quarters. The route is a familiar one, one he walked last night, in fact. Just last night he walked off the ship, the taste of Atty’s eager mouth lingering on his tongue, a warmth nestled somewhere in his chest in what passes for Reyes Vidal’s shriveled heart.

He keeps his hands shoved into his pockets to keep his white-knuckled fingers from showing. He aches to grab something – either Atty himself and hold him close to reassure himself the Pathfinder is, in fact, alright… or he wants to wrap his fingers around someone’s neck and strangle the life out of them for daring to harm the human Pathfinder and break the Charlatan’s number one rule: _don’t fuck with Atty Ryder._

The Pathfinder’s quarters open to him without him having to raise a hand or demand entry. Either Atty was expecting him or SAM knows why Reyes is here. It’s not the first time he’s demanded entry to the ship after a particularly tricky outing for the Pathfinder. The last time, Atty suffered only bruises – superficial marring of his skin, easily remedied by a week of rest to let the marks fade and skin heal, but a moment which certainly slotted things into perspective for Reyes. The panic he felt then pales in comparison to right now.

Atty’s room is empty. He’s not here.

The doors close behind Reyes. His breath catches in his throat as he spins in a slow circle, certain that he is, in fact, alone. SAM has locked him in here, and he can only think of one reason why the AI might think that is necessary.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Reyes snaps, narrowed-eyed gaze settling on the blue orb in the corner of the room – SAM’s ‘home’ on the ship, so to speak. Reyes strides toward the orb, picturing his fingers wrapping around it and throwing it to shatter against the wall like his heart is right about now. “He’s not fucking _dead_ , do you hear me?”

Atty can’t be dead. Reyes just saw him last night, kissed him goodbye to attend to Charlatan matters while the Pathfinder got some much-needed sleep for a busy day today. He kept tabs on Atty as well as he could through his journey today, though details became spotty whenever Atty left the port and slipped off into the badlands. Reyes’s little spies could only tell him so much, but they certainly notified him twenty minutes ago, when the Pathfinder was _carried_ back to his ship – head lolling limply against his krogan’s massive chest.

Hurt, unconscious – but not dead. Never dead. His sources would _know_ that. They would have told him, would have _warned_ him.

“ _He’s not dead_.” He nearly spits out the words, dragging his hands from his pockets to run them through his hair, tugging sharply at the strands. The pain, at least, is what grounds him in the moment and keeps him from spiraling into a trembling mess on the floor, because that’s what this relationship has reduced him to: a quivering mess of denial.

 ** _“He’s not dead,”_** SAM agrees from his little corner, the blue orb igniting at his presence. At his words, robotic and mechanical though they are, Reyes’s eyes fall shut and he sucks in a breath like he’s been deprived of air the past few minutes. **_“He is currently in surgery and I did not wish for you to disturb them by barging into the room.”_**

Right, well… he can’t blame the AI there. If he wasn’t locked in here right now, wasn’t allowed direct access to the ship and Atty’s room without anyone stopping him or telling him where Atty actually was – he might have veered right there and demanded to see him, disturbances be damned. As it is, though, he’s stuck in Atty’s room. He doesn’t have to test the door himself to realize this. The AI is more intelligent than Reyes previously gave him credit for.

“He’s not dead,” Reyes breathes, turning to find Atty’s bed to sit heavily on the mattress. His fingers curl into the covers beneath him, thrown about in small heaps though they are. Atty isn’t very good at making his bed first thing in the morning; he usually returns to his room later and tidies up before reading his daily emails and shooting off responses. “How is he? Surgery, you said? _What happened, SAM?_ ”

How did this happen? Who broke the rules and assaulted the Pathfinder?

_Who do I have to kill?_

The anger, the deep-burning rage, is slowly taking over his mind now that he knows Atty isn’t dead. He shoves it back because the cool touch of panic is still present – Atty isn’t out of the woods yet; he’s in surgery.

 ** _“There was an ambush out in the mountains,”_** SAM tells him mechanically. The emotionless voice detailing what happened to someone Reyes truly, deeply cares about is almost enough to leave him bouncing back to his feet, rage eating through him so easily. He manages to stay sitting, though, curling his fingers more tightly into the covers bunched into his hands. **_“The Pathfinder took the brunt of an explosion. It threw him through the air and he did not land easily. He was thrown from the cliffside and”_**

Reyes’s eyes fall shut again on the image SAM’s words create in his mind – of Atty walking along, following his nav-point to finish up helping someone, only to be ambushed and flung through the air, off the edge of the cliffside and into open space only to be dragged sharply downward by gravity. _He’s alive,_ Reyes has to remind himself. _He’s alive, he’s okay._ “What are you his injuries? What’s his prognosis? _Why is he in surgery?_ ”

**_“He has four broken ribs. One of them punctured his left lung and he was drowning in his own blood prior to his arrival to the_ ** _Tempest. **Dr. T’Perro is certain she can stabilize him, though her efforts are depleting our supply of medi-gel.”**_

“I’ll get you more,” Reyes vows, pushing to his feet. He’s too angry, too panicked, to sit still right now. He takes to pacing back and forth along the length of the room. “How much do you need? I can get it here in thirty minutes.”

Hopefully that’s quickly enough. He’s not exactly sure what he’ll do if they run out and Atty d-

 _No._ He shuts that thought down immediately.

 ** _“We should have enough to stabilize him,”_** SAM assures him. **_“However, he will need more to minimalize his pain through the healing process.”_**

“I’ll get him more,” Reyes says. “Don’t worry about it.”

 _When I get my hands on who did this to you, I swear I’m going to-_ He cuts the thought off quickly, because deep down, he knows he can’t do anything about it himself. He’s just lowly smuggler Reyes Vidal, after all; not to be fucked with, just like Atty, as per the Charlatan’s rules, but he’s not allowed to exact the Charlatan’s revenge when those rules aren’t followed. If he does that, then it’s only a short jump from ‘lowly smuggler Reyes Vidal’ to ‘someone high up on the Charlatan’s food-chain’. Some already suspect this due to the second rule of _don’t fuck with Reyes Vidal_ , but as far as most people know, Reyes is simply a smuggler supplying the Collective with needed goods, as well as the Outcasts before them, so it’s only in their best interests to leave him alone.

The point is, he can’t go after Atty’s attackers himself. He’ll have to delegate that responsibility, and he absolutely _hates_ this. Reyes is a selfish, greedy man at heart, and if his subordinates kill Atty’s attackers before he gets his turn at them… _there will be hell to pay._ No one breaks his rules like this and gets to walk away. No one hurts Atty and gets to live. _No one_.

“How is he?” he asks, the silence getting to him. The more time he has to himself, alone in silence, the more time he has to think of all the things that could go wrong, or everything that could have already gone wrong. The more time he has to think of Atty, dead on the ground with his sightless green eyes staring into nothingness, and its an image he wishes he could wash from his mind but it’s an all-too-real depiction from his nightmares.

Caring about someone means having someone to lose. Something that can be taken away from you so very easily. He worries about it more than he cares to admit.

Today, his fears have nearly come true. The anger burning through him isn’t only for Atty’s attackers, but also for himself. He should have seen this coming. He should have known about the ambush before it happened because Kadara is _his_ and _Atty_ is his and he really should have known this was happening well before it did and Atty got hurt because of his failures.

“SAM?” he asks, when there’s no response. A knot forms in his stomach, a lump in his throat he’s forced to swallow around as he whirls on the dark blue orb in the corner of the room, dark and silent and dormant. “SAM, how is he?”

Still no response.

No flicker of glowing blue to announce SAM’s presence in the room with him.

He grits his teeth and whirls on the door, but it’s still flashing red. Locked. He’s locked in here and something has happened to draw SAM away from this conversation.

_Atty._

Something’s wrong with Atty.

His hands curl into tight fists at his sides, nails biting into skin. _Don’t you fucking die on me, you son of a bitch. You better be okay._

He stomps toward the door and tries his luck with it. Of course it’s locked; he’s known that since he entered the room. SAM lured him in and locked him here so he doesn’t disturb those working on Atty, but that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy his imprisonment. That doesn’t mean he can’t free himself if he puts his mind to it. Reyes _is_ the Charlatan, after all; he can certainly hack a locked door.

It would require pulling out the circuitry, though, and he knows Atty will not appreciate his room door being yanked apart and hacked. He’ll scowl at Reyes, fold his arms over his chest in that familiar, stubborn stance, and demand an explanation as to why Reyes thought it was such a good idea to defile Atty’s door like that.

 _Because of you,_ Reyes thinks of saying, moving forward to kiss those perfect lips. Atty’s mouth will be set in a defiant line but he’ll melt under Reyes’s touch like always. He’ll break his calm, put together façade for Reyes and sink into his embrace and they’ll fall into bed together. He’ll be able to make sure Atty’s really okay, and that he stays that way – but it’s an illusion which is quickly shattered because Atty _isn’t_ okay. He’s not here, he’s not okay, and Reyes is stuck here _waiting_ -

 ** _“Ryder will not be pleased if you ruin his door,”_** SAM announces so suddenly it leaves Reyes jumping.

He spins back toward the blue orb, ignited with SAM’s presence. “How is he?” he demands, stomping toward the thing. SAM is going to tell him everything right now or he’s going to shatter that orb against the wall. “What happened?”

 ** _“His heart stopped for 92.64 seconds,”_** SAM says robotically, like his words aren’t shattering Reyes’s entire world.

He splays a hand flat against the wall. In that moment, his legs are incapable of holding his full weight and he leans heavily against the flat surface, staring at the orb like he misheard the words. SAM didn’t actually say that. Of course he didn’t. “His heart _stopped-_ ”

 ** _“Dr. T’Perro successfully got it started again,”_** SAM cuts in before he can panic too much. **_“He is stable, for the time being. His lung is being inflated again as we speak and the hole in his heart has been patched-”_**

“Hole in his heart?” Reyes utters around the lump in his throat. The broken cadence to his voice leaves him shivering – surely that’s not him speaking right now. It can’t be. He certainly doesn’t sound that _shattered_. “Hole in his _heart_? You never fucking said anything about a hole in his heart!”

All SAM said earlier was a punctured lung, which was slowly drowning him in his own blood. That was bad enough – but a hole in his heart?

Bile rises in his throat.

 _He could die._ It’s the first time he’s let himself think of Atty’s untimely death since SAM said he was alive earlier. _Oh, fuck me,_ he thinks, panic settling coldly into his veins, drowning out his previous fury. _I could lose him._

“Let me see him,” he hisses, shoving off the wall to storm back toward the doorway. _Let me out, let me see him, I need to see-_

 ** _“Calm down,”_** SAM says. **_“You can do nothing for him right now. He is in the best hands possible, given the circumstances. He is stabilizing as we speak. There were bone fragments from his broken ribs pressing on his heart which we could not see given the rudimentary imaging at first glance. They took care of his lung first, to help him breathe, and it applied more pressure on the bone fragments which tore a small hole. It has since been sealed and he is resting now.”_**

Reyes slams his hand down on the panel near the door. Usually, upon pressing it, it opens and he’s released from the room. Today, though, the door remains closed and the panel flashes _access denied_ across the screen in bright red letters. Frustration is a nearly foreign concept to him; he hasn’t felt such frustration since he was a child on the streets, angry at the way the world worked and upset with himself for not doing better that day. Now the feeling sets in again and he’s left with this disturbing _wetness_ burning his eyes. He closes them on the sensation, jaw clenched tight against the onslaught of _fear_.

Reyes Vidal hasn’t been scared of anything since he was eight-years-old. He’s never had anything to worry about except an untimely death, and that hasn’t frightened him since he was a child. _Someone else’s_ death, though – his mind apparently never prepared itself for such an occasion because he never saw himself caring about someone so freely, so deeply and openly, that he could actually have something to lose other than his life.

He thought Atty walking away in a blind rage after the duel with Sloane Kelly was the epitome of his downward spiral into actual _depression_ , but now he knows there’s actually something much worse than Atty willingly walking away from him.

 ** _“If you would like to sit and wait, I will let you know when Ryder is ready for visitors,”_** SAM tells him.

“He’s stable?” Reyes asks.

**_“He is stable, and his vitals are improving.”_ **

Relief ebbs through him but it does little to temper the burning rage inside of him. “Let me out, SAM.”

**_“I must caution against going to med-bay at this moment.”_ **

“I’m not going to med-bay.”

**_“You are leaving the ship.”_ **

It’s not a question, but he still finds himself saying, “Atty will need medi-gel.”

There’s a small whoosh as the doors open. Reyes walks stiffly from the room, teeth grinding together as he keeps his gaze steadily focused forward. He passes by the doors of med-bay on his way out; there’s a red seal on them and he knows he can’t enter even if he tried. At least, not before someone tackles him and drags him away from his attempt at hacking it.

He walks past it and off the ship.

Someone broke Kadara’s number one rule. He needs to track these people down and figure out what to do with them.


	2. Off-Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes pays a visit to those who harmed the Pathfinder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vengeful Charlatan, at your service. 
> 
> Probably going to be one more chapter, because I can't leave well enough alone. Maybe one more chapter to wrap it up and let Atty and Reyes reunite :)
> 
> Let me know how it sounds?

The thing about revenge is that logic doesn’t factor into it. It’s an instinctual, primal need. Not a desire, not a want, but a _need_. A necessity. Every fiber of Reyes’s being zeroes in on this one focus and for a time, nothing else matters.

He can’t search for his targets himself, of course, but he can follow the search as avidly as he can in the meantime. When they’re captured… well… maybe lowly smuggler Reyes Vidal will pay them a visit. Reyes is dating the Pathfinder, after all; it’s common knowledge these days. You fuck with one, you get the other on your tail. He might not be able to be an active part of the search himself, but he can still spend hours inflicting pain once they’re found.

Atty is stable; he’s heard from SAM if no one else. The crew isn’t exactly receptive to the idea of the two of them together due to his shadier activities. They don’t know he’s the Charlatan unlike SAM and Atty, but they already don’t trust him despite not knowing the truth. SAM, at least, keeps him updated on Atty’s condition via messages to his private channel. He’s stable, but nowhere near ready to wake up. They’re keeping him asleep for a day or two to make certain he actually stays there and rests and doesn’t reopen anything or tire himself out too quickly and relapse. Atticus Ryder is many things, but a good patient isn’t one of them. He can’t sit still that long.

As much as Reyes wants to be there at his side every step of the way, he can’t actively seek revenge aboard the _Tempest_ , and his presence won’t do much for Atty anyway, in his unconscious state. He’s more productive here, and his deep-seeded need for revenge can’t be sated next to Atty.

A ping on his omni-tool. A new message from his contacts out looking for the culprits.

_-We got them, boss._

Short and simple, to the point.

Reyes pushes to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Oh, the things he is going to do to these assholes…

xXx

It doesn’t take long to get to the cells out in the death caves.

 _“Death caves,”_ Atty sputtered once upon a time, scowling at them adorably. _“What kind of name is that? Why does anyone go near somewhere called ‘death caves’?”_

 _To get revenge for you,_ Reyes thinks of answering.

Nowhere is off-limits for such a thing. He’d travel all the way back to the Milky Way if needed, if someone had actually done the unthinkable and murdered the human Pathfinder and tried to escape into the past.

Maybe it should worry him, the lengths he’s willing to go – _the lengths his heart demands he go_ – but somehow, it doesn’t. It feels right to finally be fighting for someone instead of himself; instead of seeking revenge for wrongs done to him, it feels almost poetic that he seek out justice for someone else, someone important to him.

When this first started, this little experiment of his, he never thought he’d get so attached. It was just a game, a test. When Atty first kissed him in that storage room at Sloane’s party, he felt a jolt through his system – like a little electric touch in all the right ways. He already liked the look of Atty, liked the way that mouth said his name or quirked up in a grin, liked those bright green eyes. Having Atty suddenly pressed against him, mouth dominating Reyes’s own for a brief moment – well, it didn’t take much for him to quickly kiss back and enjoy the impromptu kiss.

After those first kisses, it became a game. An experiment. Atty started the first kiss, Reyes the second on that rooftop drinking alcohol, lamenting the fact he was never someone to anyone, here or in the Milky Way – and then Atty went and said Reyes was someone to _him_ , that he was real and he saw him and – well. Reyes can’t be held responsible for kissing the mouth that said those words to him.

After that, though – he had to know. He liked those kisses. Couldn’t stop thinking about the human Pathfinder – had dreams about him. So he started stepping into Atty’s personal space and kissing him whenever and wherever he wanted, just to see how far he could push before Atty bit his head off – but Atty never did. He never said to stop, never snapped at him, merely asked a confused, ‘what was that’ once in a while.

He didn’t hate the kisses, and Reyes certainly didn’t hate them, so they kept happening. Until it only felt natural, until he started actively worrying about Atty’s safety when he was off-world as he so often was. Until he started actively sending out agents to other planets to spy on the Pathfinder and relay information back to him about his well-being – for purely sinister purposes, of course. Best to know where the Pathfinder was at all times in case he decided to drop in unannounced and ruin his plans or something. It was just a precaution – or so he told himself.

Then Atty got hurt. Here, on Kadara. He got fucking hurt and his agents couldn’t tell him what his status was – critically wounded and fighting for his life on the _Tempest_ , or if he only stubbed his toe and that was what constituted ‘hurt’ to his agents. He had no way of knowing unless he went to the ship, and by the time he talked himself into doing it, the _Tempest_ was already attempting to leave.

He demanded entry and stopped their take-off just in time. Atty let him in and when he saw the bruises and the hurt in the Pathfinder’s gaze… well. It was the first time Reyes felt broken due to injuries not his own. The first time someone else’s pain had the potential to break him – the first time he realized this was, in fact, more than what he originally planned. An experiment gone wrong – _or maybe gone right_ – and he’d caught feelings in the worst possible way.

Those feelings are still there now, but worse. He didn’t enjoy the sight of Atty’s pain before, and he hasn’t even seen him this time – but the mere thought of what he endured, the mere mention of his heart stopping, however briefly… it’s enough to send his heart into his throat and leave him out here in the badlands, entering the death caves to seek revenge for a life nearly taken.

_This can’t happen again._

Atty can’t get hurt like this again – not on Kadara. He won’t give acknowledgement to the fact that this could have happened on another planet and he’d never have been the wiser – that Atty could die one day out in the field and it would take weeks, maybe months, before word got back to Reyes. He can’t think about such thoughts or he’ll do something incredibly ridiculous and attempt to join Atty on any and all away missions, which he knows he simply can’t do. He’s the Charlatan, after all; his place is here, and Atty is the Nexus’s poster boy so his place is firmly out there.

But when their paths cross… when Atty’s here…

Reyes has never wanted to kill for someone before. All Atty has to do is say the word, and Reyes will murder anyone and everyone, if he were to ask. If he were to hint that was what he wanted. But he’ll never do that, because he’s good and noble and caring – everything Reyes isn’t.

Atty is the only person in any galaxy – this one or the next – that can turn Reyes into society’s worst (or best, depending on how you look at it) killing machine, paid not with money but with his own angry fervor.

Atty is also the only person in any galaxy – this one or the next – who would never ask him to do such a thing.

_If he could see me now…_

If Atty were here right now, to watch him strolling through the caves, blending with the shadows as he sneaks through his own dungeon system so he can stealthily torture and kill someone he (Reyes Vidal, lowly smuggler) has no business killing… well. Atty wouldn’t be happy. He’d ask Reyes to stop, say something stupid like ‘I’m not worth it’ or something else equally ridiculous.

He’s not here, though.

_And that’s the fucking problem._

Atty isn’t here with him right now. He took three days off for the Pathfinder’s stay; what he finished up yesterday before leaving Atty blissfully content in his quarters was the last of the loose ends he had to tie up before he could truly be free and spend time with his lover. Atty was here for three whole days – three days to simply relax and enjoy each other’s company, and then _this_ happened. Now Atty isn’t here, isn’t even awake, and Reyes is out here instead of curled up with him in bed like it should be.

All because someone dared touch the human Pathfinder and break the first rule of Kadara.

 _Rules are there for a fucking reason, asshat,_ Reyes thinks distastefully as he slips past a patrolling guard and makes for the cells.

Once there, he locks the doors behind him with his Charlatan override – _the cameras are automatically shut down and anyone who dares try to hack back in after his code is input will be found and dealt with quickly and efficiently_ – and turns to step out of the shadows and the low light, catching his first glimpse of the would-be murderers.

“Vidal?” one of them asks, frowning dubiously at him. There are five of them in total, each in separate cells, easily dealt with one at a time as per his instructions.

He can order things a certain way and leave the bodies to be found after he leaves and takes his lock-code off the doors and cameras; everyone knows not too look too closely at his victims when his code is used, and to give him space. If he needs help – _he never does_ – then he’ll call for it.

Most already know what’s going to happen to these people. They must know, too, because a few are sharing nervous looks.

“What are you doing here?” the same one asks.

“You idiot,” another hisses. “He’s the fucking Charlatan – what do you think he’s doing here?”

“He’s not the Charlatan,” another spits back. “The Charlatan is more… well, _more_.”

Reyes smiles coldly. “Ah, yes. The nebulous _more_. It’s felled the best of men.” He steps closer to the bars of the non-believer and eyes him dangerously, his expression stony and cold, void of emotion, which is a far cry from his usual demeanor toward everyone. He needs to keep _the Charlatan_ separate from _Reyes Vidal_ , after all. “Good thing I’m certainly not the _best_ of men. Some might say I’m the worst.”

“Look, we didn’t mean it,” another says quickly. He spares a glance their way to send their hands wrapped around the bars, their wide eyes locked on him.

He quirks a brow. “You didn’t mean it?” he intones, with a little _tsk_ clicking in the pack of his throat. “There must have been some _other_ reason the Pathfinder flew through the air and off a mountain, then. I fail to see how that particular act could have been an accident, but I am a fair man.” He smiles again – all teeth, no mirth, full Charlatan. “Convince me.”

More shared, anxious looks.

“Let’s not all speak at once!” Reyes says somewhat sharply, clapping his hands together loudly, causing multiple flinches from those around him. “Speak up! Convince me!”

“We attacked him,” one says quietly.

“He’s fair game out in the badlands,” another says.

“We didn’t think you’d find out,” a third says.

“So you thought you’d sneakily rid this fucked up galaxy of the only person capable of fixing it,” Reyes summarizes, eyes narrowed into thin, dangerous slits. “As if his death wouldn’t bring the entirety of the Nexus down on us until they hunted down the killers. As if _I_ would let this go unpunished. You broke _my_ rules.”

“He’s nothing,” another spits. “He wasn’t even supposed to be Pathfinder! He got the job because his daddy went and died and gave it to him with no prior training. We’d all be in better hands anyway if-”

 _This one,_ Reyes notes to himself, _I’m killing last. He can watch his friends die first._

“His father might have been a trained Pathfinder, I’ll grant you that,” Reyes says, nodding, watching nervous hope slip into their expressions. “But as far as experience in this fucked up galaxy, experience un-fucking this place – _he has seniority_. He’s our only hope, you near-sighted imbecile!”

 _He’s my only hope, too,_ he thinks around a harsh swallow. _My only hope of being a better person._

“Not to mention the hell his death would bring down on us,” Reyes continues flatly. “But you didn’t think of that, did you.”

It’s not a question, and they don’t scramble to answer.

They didn’t think. They set up an ambush, planned to kill the Pathfinder – all without thinking about the consequences. Thought they could get away with it, too, that the badlands was fair game, anything can happen out there, and there was no way the Charlatan would find out who had broken his rules.

“Not to mention,” he continues, a sharp edge to his voice now, “ _I_ said not to fuck with him, and you went and fucked with him anyway, didn’t you? You actively tried to kill him. _You broke the rules._ ”

“You’re fucking him, aren’t you?” one of them asks, in the silence that follows. “It makes sense now. You’re fucking him and don’t want us to hurt your boytoy. Does he cost extra when he’s hurt, or less?”

Reyes levels the intensity of his glare, his disdain, on the man. He has the good sense to lower his gaze, but otherwise he lifts his chin defiantly. Reyes can respect that, on some level. Any other crime, and Reyes might have let him live simply because he dared back-talk like this and not immediately apologize under fear of certain death – but this isn’t any other crime.

SAM’s words penetrate his mind. _A hole in his heart._

He came _this close_ to being notified of a funeral. _This close_ to destroying Atty’s precious ship to get off and find the culprits. _This close_ to murdering half of his subjects in a mad dash to find and eliminate any and all who dared even look at the Pathfinder wrong. To losing what little humanity he has left, that little bit nurtured into near-existence thanks to Atty’s attentive work when before, it was invisible and silent, locked away in some dark crevice of his mind. _This close._

“I could give you a hundred reasons why you’re going to die today that are all logical and make perfect sense, and don’t involve the Pathfinder,” Reyes tells him calmly, his tone slipping back toward flat and uncaring. “I won’t bore you with them, though. You’re not going to die because of them today.”

He looks around at all of them – all five of them. They’re all wide-eyed and anxious, a few equipped with shaky, uneven breaths in the face of their own mortality thanks to their own stupidity.

“You’re going to die because you touched what’s mine,” Reyes informs them simply. “An attack against the Pathfinder is an attack against me, and I take it _very personally_.”

“We didn’t know you were fucking him,” a man says. “How were we supposed to know you guys were together?”

His gaze sharpens, fury igniting within him. “You were supposed to follow the rules, and I said: _don’t fuck with my Pathfinder._ But then come to find out he almost fucking _died_ because of the lot of you! And here I thought I made myself _very_ clear.”

It’s hard to keep the fury from his voice. He wouldn’t mind letting it loose on them except for the fact this anger comes from a place of passion, of fear and panic and _worry_ , and he’s not used to being so outwardly emotional. The Charlatan is supposed to be well-collected, in charge of their own lives in a way the rest of the planet is not, a calm and quiet rock in the storm, but instead here he is – emotion slipping into his voice because these idiots conspired to kill the most important thing in his life, and… _where the hell did that come from…_

The most important thing should be his role as the Charlatan. He’s worked hard for it, slaughtered and killed and maimed and lied and cheated for it – but somehow that’s not what he wants right now. The Charlatan is a façade he puts on for others, smoke and mirrors brought to life with the shadow edge of a double-bladed asari sword – but Reyes Vidal is a man lost in the surf, drowning in his own self-image and need to be seen, wholly and truly looked _at_ and not _through_ , and Atty Ryder does that for him. He sees Reyes – and he doesn’t shiver and look away at the broken pieces of Reyes’s life.

And these people tried to take him away, send Reyes spiraling back into an empty life where he needs mask to keep his memory alive in the shadows, because that’s the only way he knows how to live.

 _This close,_ he thinks. _This close._

xXx

First, he loads a tranq gun with five bullets and knocks each of them out. Then he slips inside their cells, ties them to chairs and waits for them to wake up so he can do this slowly, with their friends watching.

xXx

He starts with the man who asked if Atty cost extra when he’s hurt. He’d prefer to save him for toward the end so he can hear his friends die first – but his savage fury won’t be even the slightest bit sated until this man is staring at the ceiling with dead eyes, and it’s as good a place to start as any.

He starts by breaking his nose with a harsh punch to the face, just to release some of his pent-up frustration and anger. With each punch he feels muscles loosen in his body, feels something uncoil because this, at least, is something he can do. Something he knows how to do, something he can do help Atty.

Something to distract him.

Then he breaks the man’s fingers, one by one, letting him scream and wail in agony. He tries to curl his fingers into his palm, but Reyes stabs a knife through the back of his hand, down through his palm and into the wood arm of the chair – pinning his hand there, keeping it open so he can access his fingers more easily.

If the others have anything to say about his treatment of this man, they don’t speak up. When he glances over his shoulder he notices them staring at him in abject horror, though, so he knows it’s working.

 _Good,_ he thinks. _Let them hear you scream._

“Stop!” the man cries as he starts on his other hand. The knife is removed from his left one and stabbed through his right, pinning it in the same way as the other one. “I’m sorry!”

Reyes laughs darkly. “You think apologies are going to right your wrongs?” _Do you think apologies are going to restore Atty’s health?_

“I’m sorry! Please!”

He snaps another finger in two places, just because. “Apology not accepted.”

xXx

Person two gets broken fingers, broken toes, and his fingernails ripped out of his fingers.

A jab to his throat destroys his windpipe and Reyes watches dispassionately as he suffocates for the next few minutes.

xXx

The third man didn’t speak much so Reyes doesn’t punish him as severely. He gets his wrists slit and is forced to sit there and bleed out, unable to stop his death. The cuts aren’t overly large but are still spilling blood. To his credit, he only begs for his life, begs for mercy, two times.

xXx

The fourth man suffers – primarily because there was a beep on Reyes’s omni-tool toward the beginning of his punishment, and it’s an update from SAM. _Still critical,_ he says, _but stable._

Critical. His blood boils and cools with rage and fear, the duality of sensations leave him viciously peeling the man’s skin back from his fingers until the bone shines through in the red, sinewy mess that follows.

It’s a little much, even for him, and the man passes out from the pain and screams. He slaps him awake and continues with his other hand, simply because _Atty can still die_. He’s still critical, but he’s stable for the time being. That could quickly change, though, and Reyes is too far away to be there with him if he suddenly dies in his medically induced sleep. Any number of things can still go wrong.

“PLEASE STOP!” the man begs. What a voice box he has on him. Even through the thick cave walls and the steel door to the room, Reyes wonders idly if anyone else can hear him right now, outside of the cells.

“Did you stop for him?” Reyes retorts vehemently. “Did he even have time to ask you to stop when you flung him off the mountainside?”

“I’M SORRY!”

“ _Not good enough,_ ” Reyes hisses back.

xXx

The man dies of shock before Reyes is really finished with him. Robbed of a life to take his frustrations out on, he slips into the cell of the fifth man.

“Please no,” the man says instantly. “Look, I’m really sorry-”

“You said he was nothing,” Reyes says, pointing his bloody knife at him. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

“Oh, god, please – _I’m sorry-_ ”

xXx

“ _Have mercy!_ ” the man cries hours later. As the last one standing, Reyes is taking his time with him.

His fingers have been skinned and broken like those before him. Bits and pieces of his chest and stomach have also been carved off to form the words _Rule Breaker_ in broken patches of muscles and skin, in bold red lettering.

Looking at these bodies, it will deter future rule-breakers who decide it’s a grand fucking idea to lay a hand on the human Pathfinder.

“Please!” the man sobs. “Mercy!”

“Yes, death would be a mercy, wouldn’t it?” Reyes hums, looking down at him. “I’m not in a giving mood, though. Unless it’s pain; then I guess I’m a giver.”

“I’m sorry,” the man says quickly, at the lull in pain. “ _I’m sorry_ , we didn’t know who he was to you, we didn’t think-”

“You thought he was nothing.”

He picks his knife back up.

xXx

There’s a headache forming behind his eyes after it’s all said and done and the dead are splayed out like painted and carved presents on the floors of each of their cells. Only one got the carvings before death; the rest received them afterward. A small mercy, he supposes.

 _Rule Breaker,_ one says. _Rule #1,_ another claims. _Ryder off-limits,_ says another.

Painted in drying blood in the center of the dungeon area are the words: _don’t fuck with the human Pathfinder._

There’s no way anyone can claim ignorance later, if they try to attack the Pathfinder again. Reyes will find them. The Charlatan will deal with them just like this, and there will be no mercy.

_Heavens help you if you actually manage to kill Atty._

xXx

He leaves as quietly as he arrived. Stealthily, silently, completely unnoticed.

xXx

The port is in a frenzy in the next few hours.

_Did you hear?_

_The Charlatan paid a visit to those who hurt the Pathfinder._

_Don’t break the rules, man. Did you see what he did to them?_

Reyes keeps his expression carefully neutral as he passes by the gossiping groups, but inwardly he smiles to himself.

_Maybe they’ll listen this time._


	3. Gravity-Defying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atty wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the last chapter of this little fic. I hope to have more of Atty and Reyes soon, but I am always open to suggestions on stories for them, scenes you want played out or something. Let me know. 
> 
> Thank you so much for following this story and commenting and everything. It really means a lot to me. Happy you're enjoying it!

Atty looks horrible.

His body is a patchwork tapestry of bruises, ranging from purple and black to yellow and green, caught in various stages of healing thanks to the medi-gel. His chest and stomach are wrapped with white, pristine bandaging, and his ridiculously long eyelashes look too-dark compared to the pallor of his face, drained of the usual flush to his cheeks.

The heart monitor next to him shows the blips of his pulse, but the sound is muted. It’s a little jarring, how quiet med-bay is on the _Tempest_ , not even the sound of the patient’s heart to liven up the room.

Reyes has been in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to Atty’s bed for two days now, since he took care of those responsible for his lover’s current state. In that time, Atty has gone from critical to healing and stable, from _might have complications_ to _looks like he’s on the mend, finally_. Everyone is exhausted, especially Lexi. She didn’t leave med-bay for two days, but earlier today she snuck out to catch some much-needed sleep away from that uncomfortable cot in her office.

 _Do you realize how many people care about you?_ Sometimes Atty can be oblivious to how others see him. He seems to believe he’s perfectly expendable, jumping into battle at the drop of a hat. While Reyes enjoys that frantic abandon in bed, he certainly doesn’t appreciate Atty’s overzealousness to jump in front of any and all bullets simply for the thrill of the fight.

A fighter, through and through – never giving up or backing down.

Thankfully, he stubbornly refuses to die just as enthusiastically as he throws himself into harm’s way. He’s on the mend, but the steel bands around Reyes’s lungs won’t loosen until Atty’s eyes open.

_Wake up soon. You’ve slept enough._

xXx

Reyes doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but of course that’s the moment Atty finally decides to wake up.

He’s roused from his uneasy slumber when he feels fingers in his hair.

No one ever plays with his hair. _Ever_. Except Atty. He’s the only one who has ever done that, and Reyes will never tell anyone how much he secretly enjoys it – how intimate it feels.

He opens his eyes and sits up quickly, Atty’s hand falling away from his hair. Tired green eyes watch him carefully, a faint smile twitching to life on Atty’s lips.

“Hey,” Atty says.

 _Fuck me,_ Reyes thinks. _It’s good to hear your voice._

The voice is always the first thing to go, in memories. You might remember words but the tone and cadence are never right; it’s the first thing to fade away. Smiles are usually next. You might remember how you enjoyed them, but the exact image fades quickly, becoming blurry in your head.

But Atty’s smiling at him. Talking to him.

His eyes fall shut. A breath catches in his throat, and he swallows back the pathetic sound his throat tries to make.

“Hey, yourself,” he says finally, and opens his eyes to find Atty watching him carefully. The smile has slipped from his face, replaced with a concerned frown, worry darkening his eyes. That simply won’t do. “I take it you had a nice nap.”

“The best.” Atty’s voice lacks the strength and fervor it usually has, tired and weak and fragile, scraping against his throat on the way out. Those green eyes fall shut again briefly before they open once more to eye him. “I fell off a mountain,” he says quietly.

“You had help falling off it.”

“Still…” His brows furrow, a scowl overtaking his face. “Of all the ways to go out, it was _gravity_ that tried to murder me.”

Reyes’s fingers move of their own volition, easily capturing Atty’s and entwining them until he can’t tell where one hand ends the other begins. “You do realize it was an ambush, yes? You had help falling off that mountain.”

“Semantics.”

“To be fair, gravity has felled the best of men.”

Atty’s eyes roll, before he grimaces, letting them fall shut briefly. “Okay, note to self: rolling your eyes hurts.”

“About time you were punished for all your constant eye-rolling. How do you feel?”

“Pissed,” Atty mutters, opening his eyes to smirk at Reyes again. “I fell off a mountain. Fucking gravity.”

“Well,” Reyes says, quirking a brow, “you are a space hero. Maybe gravity was just proving a point.”

“Point fucking made. Ouch.” His gaze falls down toward their combined hands. “Somehow, my hand escaped The Bruisening, but you’re gonna change that.”

Reyes instantly releases his restrictively tight hold on those fingers. Atty doesn’t let him get far, though, before he catches his hand again and keeps them connected, just wanting Reyes to loosen his grip and not back away completely. “Sorry,” Reyes says quietly, pulse skittering as he looks away. He needs to get a handle on his rampant emotions, but that’s easier said than done. He’s still caught between concern and relief. At least Atty’s finally awake.

“You look like hell, by the way.”

Reyes smirks. “So sweet, my boyfriend is. Truly the kindest in the galaxy.”

“I’m serious,” Atty says quietly, mouth a thin white line as he watches Reyes carefully – like Reyes is some frenzied, broken thing that needs watching.

Maybe he is. Maybe he does need watching. The past few days are all a giant blur of breathtaking despair and he wishes he could erase those moments from his mind – but they will always be there to haunt him, to remind him of what he could have lost.

Still, he forces a smile for Atty’s benefit. “I look breathtakingly handsome compared to you right now.”

Atty smirks. “Ouch.”

“How’s your pain?”

“Fine, Reyes. Don’t worry about me.”

A growl catches in the back of Reyes’s throat. To his credit, he manages to swallow it back down, but his voice is still rougher than usual when he says, “You fell off a mountain. You could have _died_.”

“But I didn’t,” the Pathfinder says with a toothy grin. “I defied gravity and lived.”

“Yes, well – a little less gravity defying in the future, okay?”

“I make no promises. I have a taste for it now, so there’s really no stopping me.”

Reyes shakes his head, though the light banter forces some tight knot in his stomach to unravel ever-so-slightly, and suddenly that slight loosening is everything. His thumb moves, gently smoothing over the top of Atty’s knuckles. “I’ll tie some weights to you, so you don’t float away.”

“You keep me grounded.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

Atty laughs – a quiet, breathy one, perfect in the moment. “So did anyone catch who attacked us? Was anyone else hurt?”

“Minor scrapes and bruises for everyone but you,” Reyes tells him. “And they’ve been dealt with.”

“Who has?”

“Your attackers.”

Atty frowns. “They were caught?”

“They’ve been dealt with,” Reyes repeats.

“What happened?”

“Don’t worry about it. I handled it.”

“Did you kill them?”

Reyes steels his expression into something empty and stony, hiding the turmoil eating him up inside. Atty won’t approve of his methods, but he did what needed to be done, not just for himself but for the Collective as a whole, because such a thing cannot go unpunished. If you break the rules you’re going to be tortured and killed, no exceptions.

Atty sucks in a sharp breath at his silence. “You did, didn’t you.”

It’s not a question so Reyes doesn’t answer, just holds his gaze.

“Why?” Atty asks quietly.

“Why?” Reyes repeats, frowning, emotion slipping through his mask so easily. “They broke the rules and tried to kill you, and you have to ask me why I killed them?”

“What rules?”

 _Oh,_ Reyes thinks. _Right. Of course he doesn’t know._ Why would Atty know the rules? They’re unofficial, not written down anywhere, and of course Reyes wouldn’t tell him the lengths he’d go to protect him. This is a conversation he never thought he’d have to have, because he thought the rules would be followed and Atty would never have to find out.

“Rule number one,” Reyes says, watching him carefully, “don’t fuck with the human Pathfinder.”

Atty stares at him for a moment, green eyes wide. “And rule number two?”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Reyes says.

A soft smile graces Atty’s face. “I’m your number one rule?”

Reyes squeezes his hand briefly before relaxing his grip again. “Now don’t let it go to your head, or there’ll be no living with you.”

Another soft, quiet laugh. Reyes rather likes that sound. “You’re my number one, too.”

There’s a lump stuck in Reyes’s throat, momentarily closing off his air. A short, strangled sound escapes before his throat relaxes enough to let him swallow properly. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“What? Call you my-”

“Almost die,” Reyes cuts in sharply. “Never again.”

Atty blinks back at him. In that moment, Reyes feels exposed, vulnerable – like Atty can see right through him, past all the walls he’s managed to build around himself, and actually see _him_ , as broken and fucked up as he is.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Atty tells him quietly, like Reyes is some skittish animal that might bolt if his voice raises too high.

A sharp laugh escapes Reyes’s mouth. “ _Scare_ isn’t exactly the right word for it,” he tells him. _More like terrified. Don’t do that again._ He doesn’t ever want to have to hear how Atty’s heart stopped ever again. Once is more than enough for him, thank you very much. “It was _this close_ , Atty.” He pinches his index finger and thumb together, only scant centimeters separating them as he holds his free hand up for Atty’s inspection. “Your heart stopped.”

“Not the first time,” Atty says nonchalantly. “Like, at this point, my heart stopping is old news. It didn’t stay that way, as usual.”

“What do you _mean-_ ”

“Reyes,” Atty says softly, a reassuring smile on his face. “I’m okay. It’s gonna take more than a mountain conspiring with gravity to do me in.”

The breath leaves Reyes in a quick rush. “Never again,” he orders. “Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear. My ears, at least, aren’t bruised.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Reyes says, shaking his head.

“Doubtful. I like you alive too much to kill you.”

“You joke about this, but-”

“Reyes.” Another soft smile, warm and sincere in a way no one else ever seems to be here on Kadara. “I’m not going anywhere unless you kick me out of your life.”

Reyes swallows around that ridiculous lump in his throat and nods once. Then he leans over and kisses his boyfriend, the feel of Atty’s lips still electric and soft as the first time, despite his cuts and bruises. Kissing Atty never grows old like it has with so many others before him.

_Don’t go anywhere. Ever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little short, sorry about that. To continue from there felt wrong. I kept hating what I wrote and deleting it, so I guess this little fic wasn't meant to keep going after that point xD Oh well.

**Author's Note:**

> I like aggressive Reyes xD I think I'm gonna have fun with his bad side.


End file.
